February

I’m sorry. It is February.

It’s cold, and cloudy, and grey outside. It could snow, but probably won’t. If it did, it would melt before we could call a snow day. It will probably rain. Cold, wet rain. The backyard is a mud pit.

At school, we are in the middle of the year. No new classes, no new faces. Maybe we will shift seats, check out a new book, open the APUSH textbook to the twentieth century. Maybe something will happen to the building, or the weather, so we could sleep a little later in the morning, but probably not.

We are all wearing sweatshirts and sweaters every day. The same sweatshirt or sweater. I wore my newly handed down brown sheepy sweater for six days straight last week. No one noticed. Some boys have had the same wool beanie on for weeks. No one wants to know what their hair looks like under there. Occasionally someone denies reality and wears shorts, but they still wear the same sweatshirt.

The Short Winter, from November through December with its lights and food and presents is long over. The Long Winter is upon us. Rain. Mud. Clouds. Sore muscles. Damp basements.

Cats have mastered this season. Curled up on soft pillows or warm sweaters, they sleep. For hours. Kayli moves twice a day for crunchies and to scoot under the van to pee. Otherwise, she is dreaming of summer on the footstool.

There are ways to move beyond the February Blues. Stay busy—I’ve got that down. Order seeds and sketch out the garden rotation. Notice that the days are, really, getting longer. Read. Drink tea with a book. Go to a museum.  Plant kale and lettuce seeds. Look for snowdrops and small buds on the plum tree. Make soup and bake a cake. Take a long walk. But, I’m sorry. It is February. I need the sun.